"WHAT?" I was shocked by this pronouncement.
Did I tell you what I left my big bad NYC job to do...? I had become a full-time Fitness Instructor and Personal Trainer. You got it. So guess who trained Roc leading up to all this?
You got it.
"I passed the push-ups, the sit-ups," he heaved a big sigh, "But I went over time on the run."
"That's it? What does that mean? Do you get another chance? How could that be it?!" I was ranting, upset on his behalf. It didn't make sense to me, as he had scored so high on the written test and passed every other part of the testing thus far.
"I think that's it." He shrugged. We hugged. I made him several cups of coffee.
"You still have another iron in the fire," I reminded him, thinking about the NYPD test he had taken recently.
"Yeah, but I don't know." He started ticking off his points. "Part of getting this job was that I could go to work at the business before or after a shift; it's convenient, it's decent money, a hell of a lot safer than the NYPD...plus who says I could pass the run in that test?"
"You can. You will." I encouraged. "Plus, it's the NYPD. The biggest and the best. Don't you want to be a part of all that?"
The answer was an emphatic and resounding YES. It always had been. As evidenced by his Second-grade Halloween photo: Rocco in full-out NYPD gear, a fake gun in a plastic holster on his tiny little hip. The grin: pure joy, and pride even then.
Maybe this was just what was meant to be.